In Spite of Me
by TutorGirlml
Summary: Emma Swan finds that it feels good to finally fall for the charms - and the real love - of Killian Jones, in spite of herself and how long she spent fighting it. (Post Season 3)


_(So, I was listening to "Head Over Feet" by Alanis Morissette the other day, and it flashed into my head that the song suits Emma. Hook (Killian) didn't give her a choice but to finally accept what he was offering and let him in. The way I see it, she's falling for him now and glad to be, even if she was trying to run for quite some time. Anyway, that song is where the title and included lyrics come from, and yes, that really is all it takes to birth the idea for another CaptainSwan oneshot! Takes place sometime in the near future, after the season 3 finale. Of course, I don't own them!)_

"_In Spite of Me"_

_By: TutorGirlml_

As per usual, Emma Swan has no idea how this fight got started, only that she and Killian are standing face-to-face at the kitchen sink in the thankfully empty apartment that was once she and Mary Margaret's, but is now she and Henry, and honestly, Killian's. Both of their hands are dripping wet, and she has a plate clutched in one of hers, ready to fling it at him in frustration. Humor plays in the corners of his eyes, as if he knows what she is thinking, and also that she won't really do it. That smug assurance of his only serves to further wind her up, and Killian quickly reaches out to snag her wrist and take the plate from her.

"Easy there, Lass," he murmurs, leaning in and risking a slap to have the words rumble gently at her ear. "Let's not do something you'll later regret."

Emma blows out a frustrated breath of air and pushes him from her space. "Speak for yourself, Pirate," she grumbles, but relinquishes the china weapon into his determined grasp.

He just has to be right next to her all the time – even now that they're a good two months into their relationship. Even if she is just doing the supper dishes, he's so near that their elbows are brushing as she washes and hands them to him to rinse and put into the drying rack. Not that she doesn't love the help, but at times his constant closeness can irk her after being so used to having a wealth of time to herself. That he is almost always touching her can tend to either ignite her body to the point that she grabs him and completely abandons the task she started, or causes her senses to close in and feel almost claustrophobic. The latter doesn't happen often, but when it does, it scares her; she doesn't want what they have to be ruined by her own hang-ups. When he tossed a knife back into her side of the sink a moment ago, cheekily announcing, "You missed a spot, Love," she had snapped irrationally, and now, here they are, in a standoff over nothing.

"What did I do, Emma?" Killian's brow furrows as he sees that she is indeed irritated and something is wrong.

Emma forces out a calming breath, plenty exasperated herself upon seeing that even his look of complete confusion is adorable, and knowing she has no good explanation for why she is angry at him. She shakes her head and swipes her hair back off her forehead, sticky from leaning over the heated water. "Just forget it," she mumbles, avoiding his eyes and going back to her washing, "it's silly."

Her movements are arrested by his arms taking hold of both hers, drawing them back out of the sink and turning her to face him. "Nonsense, Beautiful," he vows fervently, touching a finger to her chin and tilting her face up to meet his eyes. "If you're troubled, it is _not_ nothing." He pulls her into his arms, heedless of how she's getting him all wet, and holding her close. "I did not mean to upset you… I am sorry."

His affection makes her head spin, and Emma sniffles a little, feeling both touched and guilty that a moment ago he had been as mad as she was, but threw his own feelings aside the moment he grew concerned for her. Somewhere inside, a spark begins to glow, fanning into flame and burning away her irritation and stubborn independence. She rises on her toes to kiss him soundly, and then run her hands through his hair. "No, honestly, Killian. Please don't worry about it," she whispers. "It wasn't you – not really."

She knows he is as determined as she is, and won't really let it go for good, but he seems appeased for the moment. Lifting her up to sit on the edge of the sink, he begins kissing her thoroughly with his usual gusto. "If you say so, Lass," he murmurs huskily against her mouth as they break for air.

With a mischievous grin, Emma leans back, sticks one hand in the sink, and draws it back out to splash water at him, giggling out, "I do say so!" impishly as his eyes widen in surprise.

Soon they are splashing water at each other, ducking and dodging, her shrieking and him shouting with glee until they slip-slide to the wet floor together, limbs tangling and kissing messily, hands everywhere and laughing in between. Emma's annoyance melts away as if the water has washed her clean of it; looking into her pirate's jubilant face, she knows she has fallen harder for him than she has ever fallen before, and promises herself not to overthink it. Falling doesn't have to be a terrible thing…not this time.

_I had no choice, but to hear you_

_You stated your case time and again_

_I thought about it_

_You treat me like I'm a princess_

_I'm not used to liking that_

_You ask how my day was_

_You've already won me over, in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn't help it_

_it's all your fault_

Four months have passed now since Emma and Killian returned from their adventure in the past – mostly blissful months, if Emma is honest with herself, as she is trying more and more to be. Still, at some moments like this one, she once again wishes he didn't always feel the need to be right at her side. In this case, his devotion and stubborn bravery is putting him in danger when she can't afford to split her focus worrying about him. She has magic; he's the one running the risk of being hurt. It's a late August evening, though the howling, icy wind and foot of snow belie that fact. Elsa has to be found before she buries them all in a winter wonderland. And Emma _is_ the sheriff; she _can_ take care of this.

That's why, when they reach the edge of the forest where Elsa was last seen, Emma puts out a hand to stop Killian's forward motion and begs him once more to stay there and wait for her to come back out. She's taken him along this far, but she doesn't want him hurt with magic when he can't fight back in kind. He _needs _to just wait here at the tree line.

"Not a chance, Love," he murmurs, reaching out to catch her upper arm and squeezing comfortingly for a moment. She shouldn't be a bit surprised by him being so determined to get his way, so she sighs and lets him speak. "I'll not have you going in there alone, facing her without back-up." He leans in, smacking a quick little kiss to her forehead, then stands back, letting his hand run down along her arm to clasp her hand and pull them forward again – letting her know that they're going on together or not at all.

_'Stubborn idiot,'_ her mind grumbles. She shakes her head, knowing when she has lost and not wanting to waste any more time before facing Elsa and stopping the dangerous blizzard threatening everyone in Storybrooke with its wrath. They plunge into the forest, stepping carefully in the ever-deepening snow and avoiding the ice-covered branches that try to whip their faces in the frigid wind. Emma can see she and Killian's breath in clouds before them, but she can't stop, even for their own safety, because the cold has reached dangerous levels in town, people are getting sick, frostbitten, pipes are bursting, leaving people without water, and the ice now inches thick on the road has stranded them all from the rest of the world.

They reach a clearing abruptly, stumbling out of the trees and nearly falling to all fours in the snow. The wind whips up to a furious crescendo, and Emma knows they have reached the right place, even before she hears a dangerously cold, aching voice on the air.

"Who's there?" the brittle notes break through the haze of frost and thickly falling flakes icily, the tone more an imperious demand for identification than a request. "Whoever you are, you need to go away. Leave me alone!"

Emma shakes her head resolutely, moving a step further into the clearing and squinting through the white storm, trying to see Elsa. As if from thin air, the Snow Queen appears just a few feet before her, facing Emma squarely and studying her just as closely. She is tall and statuesque, long hair so blonde it is nearly white falling in an elaborate braid so far down her back as to brush the blanketed ground behind her. She wears an iridescent blue dress that makes her seem to shimmer through the snowglobe scene of her own creation. Her gaze is steely and resolved, but not malicious – if Emma had to guess anything, she would come closer to calling the look sad and resigned…and lonely. The ache of loneliness is something Emma understands all too well. She has felt it numbing her insides also, spreading through her, conquering like a glacier taking over a land mass, for her entire life. She was slowly growing past caring if anyone cracked it, if she fully felt anything again, until first Henry, and then Killian, had fought through her frozen armor and melted her defenses.

Suddenly, it isn't just about stopping Elsa, but also saving her from that same curse. Tentatively, Emma steps another foot closer, debating whether to reach out to the other woman with her hand, but holding her gaze regardless. "We're here to help," Emma insists fervently. "We know you don't mean to hurt anyone – that you're trying to control your powers." She swallows hard, wondering if anything she can say will break through, before finishing with, "Please, just tell us what we can do."

Despite the woman's lovely form and her obvious power, the pain and longing in her eyes is palpable, nearly bowing her austere frame. Elsa's thin shoulders hunch forward, and her head droops. When she looks up to meet Emma's eyes once more, a single crystalline tear treks slowly down her cheek, where it freezes: a beautiful mirror of her shattered soul. "No one can help me," she warns sadly. "Please…just go."

"But…you don't…you shouldn't have to be alone," Emma argues desperately. Without thinking, she reaches out to catch at Elsa's sleeve before the other princess can flee. Elsa shrinks back, flinging her hand out to hold Emma off, gasping as she realizes her mistake a split second too late.

The magic shoots from her hand, unbidden and raw, hitting Emma squarely in the chest. Emma has no time to react; she is literally frozen in place, feeling the chill spreading out from her chest to the rest of her body. She can't move, can't speak, can barely breathe: a living ice sculpture, trapped within her own body.

"Emma!" Killian roars behind her, his voice unhinged and wild, "No!" She feels the vibrations of his feet pounding as he closes the small space between them, but she can't answer, can't reach out for him. She hasn't fallen, so he can't pick her up and hold her in his arms, but he still somehow manages to wrap himself around her protectively, finding her eyes, though she isn't sure if he knows that she can still see him. He makes a human shield of himself so Elsa's magic can touch her no further – though the damage has already been done.

Emma wants to cry and scream at him, as he is throwing himself in harm's way for her again, but nothing escapes the prison of her motionless form. The Snow Queen herself lets out a howl of despair and anguish, lashing the blizzard around her as she disappears in a whirlwind of snow and ice, her guilty wail still echoing on the breeze.

"Emma!" Killian calls again, gently trying to shake her into wakefulness, but snatching his hand back instead of tracing her cheek when contact with her skin is like literal ice. "Please, Love, wake up!"

Frantic for a moment, Killian's mind races, desperate to save his savior. Then, his thoughts clear, and exactly what he needs to do comes to him in a flash of clarity. Leaning in, he braves the frigid chill of her skin, praying he has the power, trusting their love more than he has ever had to before, and bends his head to press his lips against her frozen ones – hoping against hope.

True Love's magic swells around them, tingling in his veins and flooding warmth into both their bodies again. If he had eyes for anything but his Swan, he would see that the wind dies down and the sun peeks out in further response to their magical connection. Emma gasps, air filling her lungs again as her eyes blink and movement returns to her limbs. "Killian…you did it!" she breathes, clutching his arm tightly.

His eyes crinkle happily at the corners, a small smile letting relief sneak through the panic. "Someone had to rescue you, Beautiful," he murmurs, brushing the tip of her nose with a feather-light touch.

She smiles back at him, exasperated and in awe of her reckless, brave, wonderful pirate – who knows when _not _to listen and be there anyway.

_Your love is thick, and it swallowed me whole_

_You're so much braver than I gave you credit for_

_That's not lip service_

_You've already won me over, in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn't help it_

_It's all your fault_

The warm lights, laughter, and chatter inside Granny's Diner illuminate the November night, making Emma feel more cozily happy than she can ever remember. The dwarves are lined up on stools at the bar, calling out to one another raucously, toasting and ordering refills from Granny. Marco is contentedly watching young August eat pancakes and nodding his head in agreement with something Archie is saying beside him. Ruby brings Snow and David hot chocolate with cinnamon at their booth near the front window and then sits down beside her best friend, holding out her arms to cradle her godson for a moment as she does.

Emma glances back across the table she is sharing with Henry and Killian, thrilling joyously as her son grins at her, cinnamon roll icing on his cheek and eyes alight. She laughs out loud, reaching over to wipe the sugary remnants away and squeezing his hand for just a second while she cuddles into Killian's side.

Only a few months ago, she could not have imagined being this at ease with him, wanting to snuggle even closer into his embrace whether they were in public or not, and feeling not an ounce of fear. She looks sidelong up into Killian's face, only to see a twinkle in his eyes that both causes a fluttering in her stomach and makes a grin stretch even wider over her features. "What are you up to now, Jones?" she mutters at him, only pretending to be disgruntled.

His smirk is contagious as he refuses to divulge his secret, instead sliding out of the booth with a maddening, "Be right back, Darling," as he evades her grasp to pull him back. With a mischievous wink at Henry (they're obviously in cahoots), Killian sidles up to the counter, whispering something to Ruby, who has returned to her post. The leggy brunette nods knowingly, reaches under the counter, retrieves a plate of cake, and hands it to Killian. She shoots Emma an innocent but beaming smile, and Emma sighs, giving in. They are _all_ in on this, whatever surprise Killian has cooked up, so she might as well sit back and enjoy it.

Killian slips fluidly back into the bench seat next to her and slides the delicious-looking piece of cake over. "Here you are, Emma love, cinnamon spice cake with buttercream icing. Your favorite." The wink along with the words is almost too much.

"And just how do you know that?" Emma scoffs, trying to ignore the way her pulse is racing triple its usual rate. The things this man can do with a mere look or smile are devastatingly unfair to mere mortals like her.

"Why, Henry told me, of course," he purrs, smiling conspiratorially at her son, to which Henry grins widely in return.

Emma wonders idly how his face doesn't split in two before playfully grumbling, "Traitor," at Henry and narrowing her eyes. She can't hold the stern look, however, and instead she focuses on getting a generous bite of cake on her fork. It _is _her favorite – her love of a bit of cinnamon and spice stretching beyond hot chocolate to most sweets – and it looks incredible.

Savoring the first bite, a low hum of pleasure leaves her throat and her eyes close in bliss. When she opens them again, she nearly laughs out loud at the look on her pirate's face. Her unconscious reaction obviously affected him more than she could have imagined, as he appears speechless, slack-jawed, and like he might have swallowed his own tongue.

"What are you trying to do to me, Swan?" he asks, voice raspy.

Emma widens her eyes with mock innocence, batting her lashes for extra effect. "What?" she questions blithely, "I'm just enjoying my dessert."

He shakes his head, looking away, clenching and unclenching his fist under the table reflexively before swallowing hard, conceding momentarily that she has turned the tables on him. "You go right ahead, Darling," he says, a deviously sweet smile on his face.

She smiles right back at him, reveling in her triumph, until her teeth touch something hard in the second bite. "Ow," she mumbles, "what the-?" But by that time, she has the offending object in her hand… and she can see that it is a ring.

Her breath catches – truly taken by complete surprise – as her eyes fly up to lock with Killian's. Their gazes connect, but she finds he has already swept out of their booth again and dropped to one knee beside their table.

"Are you crazy?!" she hisses, fingers gripping his hook and trying to pull him back into his seat, cheeks flushing brightly. "Everyone's staring."

"Aye, Love, I may be crazy. You've made me so. And, let them look. I am about to propose to you, and I thought the people you love – the people that have helped us both stopping running and find a home – should be here to see it."

"K – Killian…" she whispers, trailing off as words fail her and tears gather in the corners of her eyes. She expects panic to set in, but it doesn't. Henry reaches across the table to take her free hand, pressing it supportively, and Killian's good hand comes up to cradle the side of her face, brushing away the first tear that falls. She looks back into his sincere, hopeful blue eyes, savoring both of her boys there with her, loving her, and everything simply feels right.

She glances down to really look at the ring for a moment. It is so like something Killian would pick: the princess-cut diamond surrounded by small stones that are as clear and blue as the sea he loves, set on a delicate yellow gold band – enough sparkle to be worthy of a pirate treasure, but not too much for a no-nonsense sheriff to handle wearing.

He opens his mouth to speak, and Emma knows that whatever he has to say will be beautiful and perfect, but she simply cannot wait, cannot leave him wondering a moment longer. Nodding furiously, she launches herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over in her exuberance. "Yes!" she says simply, and catches his lips with hers.

When he pulls back enough to breathe, their forehead stills resting together, he pretends to chide her. "You didn't let me finish, Swan. I had some very pretty words for you."

"I'm sure you did. I want to hear them…later…but I need to kiss you more."

Their smirks match each other now, and then they are kissing again as Killian slips the ring onto her finger and pulls her closer, hand and hook circling her waist. Henry whoops in celebration, doing a little victory dance in the aisle around them before swooping Ruby, Granny, and the dwarves up in his merriment. David begins the applause, and Marco, Archie, and August join in, beaming with good wishes. Snow is practically glowing as she rocks little Neal in her arms, tears welling in her eyes at the sight of her daughter, all grown up and truly found at last, with her own True Love.

Emma senses them all there on the periphery for a moment, happy for she and Killian, and her heart expands thankfully before they all fade away again. Just like in the movies, everything else loses focus but _her _Killian. She is so in love with him now that she marvels. How did she hold him at bay for so long, fighting off doors held open, chivalrous promises kept, and guiding hand at the small of her back? She knows why it had been so hard for her to trust, but also knows she will never doubt him now. His patience has paid off for both of them. She sees him – as he truly is – and realizes he was never the treacherous rogue she first thought. She has never been so glad to be proven wrong, even if she did fight him every inch of the way.

Emma keeps right on kissing her pirate, and can't help wondering how he will feel about being called a prince.

_You are the bearer of unconditional things_

_You held your breath and the door for me_

_Thanks for your patience_

_You're the best listener that I've ever met_

_You're my best friend - best friend with benefits_

_What took me so long?_

…_You've already won me over, in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are_

_I couldn't help it_

_It's all your fault_


End file.
